Plaid and Promiscuous
by HeBelievedMe
Summary: Hermione is more uptight than a mother of four at the grand canyon. Her friends decide to take action. Not in a particularly intelligent way, but one can only ask so much from teenagers with attention spans shorter than mine. Oh my, look at that fly...
1. The Dilemma

Chapter 1: The Dilemma

"Don't say that! She might hear you!" whispered a frantic voice from behind the doors of an inconspicuous closet located in an inconspicuous hallway.

"Funny. Ginny's in DADA. She would never skip. If she did I would tell Mom what you two do behind closed doors. Or open doors." As an afterthought he added "Or in the commons."

"Ron, you know there's no need to tell your Mum anything. I was just referring to Ginny's status as Gryffindor gossip." Harry quickly looked around and added in a louder voice "Not that she is!" Then he turned back to Ron and whispered "Look, there's a reason she knows everything about everybody: she has ears everywhere!"

"Look, whether or not Ginny does hear, the fact still remains that Hermione is going to die sad and lonely, and we need to do something about it."

"I completely agree. But we need to discuss this someplace secret. If Ginny finds out, how would I get any?" Sheepishly Harry repented "I mean, how would we get anything done? She'd thwart us at every turn!"

"Why do you think I pulled you into this broom closet? To give the Daily Prophet a nice little gay love story?"

"Ohhh, that sounds wrong. Maybe you pulled me in for a quick shag."

"Even if I leaned that way, I wouldn't go for you."

Harry looked relieved, then slightly offended. "Why? What's wrong with me?"

"Harry, you are such a girl. Let's go to the Room of Requirements if you want to be sure no one can hear us."

The headlines from the next day's Daily Prophet read "RON WEASLEY AND HARRY POTTER COME OUT OF THE CLOSET.

They credited Goyle as their reliable source.


	2. The Obsession

Chapter 2: The Obsession

Boredom. It gave rise to perfection as Draco had just realized. For the first time since first year he had nothing to do. Nothing at all. Sweet bliss of nothingness: no papers, no teachers, no patrolling, no committees, no nagging girls, no nothing.

He checked the mirror again. Icy perfection. Idly he wondered if it would crack if he hit it too hard. His hair products could sometimes be temperamental.

His current robes were the 19th set he had changed into in twice as many minutes. Draco told himself that this was because he got sick of the old set.

Every two minutes.

His lounging seemed to be the work of Michelangelo. Had he looked any more perfect the barricade of enchantments designed to give the Head Boy and Girl privacy would be useless against the adoring girls.

Not that they weren't trying to get inside already.

Actually, he was absolutely perfectly… well, miraculous if you wanted to use the most accurate word. But something indeed was missing (or he would have been doing something more fruitful, like the Patil twins who were attempting to knock down the entrance door at the moment).

Oh yes. Hermione-Freakin'Granger. She'd promised to be in their Commons Room 15 minutes ago but she still wasn't showing. A guy could only go so long without running out of new robes to change into (in Draco's case, three days). Besides that, there was the problem of his desperate boredom.

Not desperate because he minded sitting by the fire, looking ridiculously handsome. It wasn't because he was in a room completely desolate of his usual assortment of doting fans (though that might have been a part). It wasn't even because he hated Granger's guts. If only. The truth was, he was desperate because this boredom gave him more opportunities to think of HER, which he had been doing with alarming frequency.

He tried to stop himself from thinking of her as he blew kisses in the mirror. He tried to tell himself he wasn't changing from his navy robes to his silver-embroidered robes (that brought out the color of his eyes) for her. And he tried to tell himself that he wasn't sitting in a casually sexy pose so she would be inspired into a lustful frenzy.

He knew that that could (and did) only happen in his dreams.

Yet there he was, feeling his heart quicken as the portrait swung open, anticipating that beautiful bushy hair, and imagining that gorgeous smile she gave him like a bone to a starving dog (though Draco was not quite a starving dog: check the little black book).

But instead of his scholarly, annoying (yet still very passable) Granger, in walked a sex goddess in plaid.

And Hermione wondered why Draco was sitting there with his mouth open.


End file.
